


Many Hands Make Light Work

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Aliens Make Them Do It, Dubious Consent, Fisting, M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim didn't mean to come between them. Not like this, anyway.</p><p>Warning: contains dubious consent of the aliens-made-them-do-it variety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Many Hands Make Light Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).



“These aliens… certainly have… a funny idea… of homage…. Am I right?” Kirk panted. He tried to grin at both Spock and McCoy, to make light of this somehow, but twisting his head around to see Spock behind him also twisted his body in precarious ways.

Spock’s hands clamped down on Kirk’s hips. “Please stop moving.” He leaned forward, just a little. Kirk gritted his teeth, and McCoy choked off a groan. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” Kirk answered, then he figured out by the look McCoy was throwing past Kirk’s shoulder that he wasn’t the one Spock had been addressing. Which didn’t seem fair. Although McCoy was at the bottom of the pile, he wasn’t the one with two cocks stuffed inside him right now. Kirk said, “Could we maybe speed this up?”

“Our hosts were quite specific as to the required completion of Doctor McCoy and myself,” Spock said. “These things cannot be rushed.”

“I don’t know what kind of sex you’ve been having, Spock--.” Not true. He could imagine: sex with McCoy, filthy sex, too, if McCoy’s recent good moods were anything to go by. “--But these things can absolutely be rushed.”

“Jim. Careful,” McCoy wheezed. His hands clenched on Kirk’s biceps, and he leaned back against the sheets as if trying to get to minimum safe distance.

“Hang on.” Kirk rocked down against where McCoy and Spock were spearing him open, and clenched his muscles tight. And that wasn’t half good, maybe not even a quarter good, because hot, angry sensation welled up under his skin everywhere except the four points where McCoy and Spock’s hands had him anchored.

“Jim—,” McCoy groaned, at the same time as Spock snapped, “Captain.” And when had it become “Captain” again, anyway?

“Captain, please remain still. Leonard, hold on.”

“To what?” McCoy grumbled, but he didn’t try to argue. He’d being doing a lot of that—not arguing with Spock—lately.

Spock pushed himself up further on his arms and leaned back to pull slowly out. Kirk dropped his head against McCoy’s shoulder and tried to breathe. The sensation of Spock’s dick sliding out along McCoy’s length still inside him drew a shuddery breath out of Kirk. When Spock began easing back in, the air caught in Kirk’s throat.

“Easy, Spock.” McCoy’s hand slid from Kirk’s arm to curl around the back of his neck. “Be careful with him.”

“I am always careful,” Spock said softly.

“I know, darlin’.”

When Spock moved again, he seemed to be taking more care to keep his actions smooth. Fire still simmered under Kirk’s skin, but other things were igniting, too. The pain was beginning to dull in the wake of pleasure, and his body was beginning to relax and accept what was happening.

“Good.” McCoy petted Kirk in smooth, firm strokes from the crown of his head down his sweat-soaked back to where he’s joined with Spock. “Relax. Let him do the work.”

“Yeah. About time other officers started pulling their weight around here.” A lame attempt at humor, Kirk knew, but it’s all he had at the moment, with Spock moving slowly but inexorably inside him.

McCoy gasped out a laugh, and for a moment Kirk loved him for it: for showing a glimpse of his drinking buddy best friend in the midst of all this tangled-up weird.

“Captain.” Spock’s voice sounded strained. “I am nearly finished.”

McCoy’s hand left Kirk’s back to reach up. Spock twined their fingers together and pressed McCoy’s hand to the bed as he accelerated his pace. He pounded into Kirk with long, smooth strokes that left Kirk and McCoy pressed together, gasping for the same particles of air.

Spock rocked deeply into Kirk one more time, and his fingers dug into Kirk’s hips with bruising force. Kirk imagined McCoy’s hand must have been getting similar treatment, but when Kirk checked McCoy’s face, he found his eyes closed in an expression of transcendent pleasure. He glanced over at their linked hands, and wondered if Spock’s touch-telepathy allowed McCoy to share his release, somehow.

Then Kirk stopped speculating and started trying to balance as he found himself gripped by strong Vulcan arms. In one neat maneuver, Spock managed to roll the three of them over without dislodging anyone from the untidy grapple, leaving Kirk lying on his back on top of Spock, and McCoy now draped over the top of Kirk.

“Continue,” Spock said.

Kirk thought about spitting out a protest, something along the lines of, “Yes, this is not actually that comfortable, thanks for asking,” when McCoy, still with a dazed expression, began to move. He braced his hands on the bed on either side of the two men beneath him. He thrust further into Kirk, and at this angle, immediately hit the spot that made Kirk gasp.

Spock wrapped his arms around Kirk’s to hold him down. Kirk didn’t resist. He slumped back against Spock and allowed himself to be held, because watching McCoy fuck him broke something loose inside Kirk. The perpetual scowl transformed to open-mouthed desire, the hunched shoulders set proudly back for greater leverage, the sarcastic quips discarded in favor of raspy groans, all conspired to kick Kirk’s mind over the edge from pleasant, unattainable fantasy to nerve-firing, skin-slick reality.

“Leonard,” Spock gasped from beneath them.

McCoy moaned in answer, and his hips slammed into Kirk again, hitting just the right place to make Kirk jerk and clench around him. That undid McCoy, who thrust into Kirk once more and spilled his release.

McCoy slumped against Kirk’s chest, greedily gulping in air. Spock untangled his arm from Kirk’s in favor of running a soothing hand down McCoy’s naked back. Kirk shifted uncomfortably. His muscles clamped down fitfully around the two softening cocks inside him, and his erection throbbed uncomfortably where it was trapped under McCoy.

“Wait,” McCoy muttered. He pushed up with one arm to look at Spock. “We’re not done.”

“I know. I understood the instructions,” Spock said. “However, no method was specified for the captain’s relief.”

“Spock,” McCoy narrowed his eyes. This close, Kirk could see the creases in the corners of his eyes. “Have a little decency. There’s enough of us to go around.”

Kirk closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be here for this, McCoy standing up for him. The pieces clicked, once he spun them all together in his mind: Spock knew, they both knew how he felt. He shouldn’t have let them see that. As the captain, he should be able to maintain his professionalism, even under duress. Even when a planet’s government had a tradition of demanding that the leading representative of a visiting government be sexually serviced (simultaneously) by his attendants. There was probably a Starfleet memo detailing exactly how to act in these situations, and though Kirk hadn’t read it, he felt certain it included nothing about letting inappropriate feelings about subordinates get involved. Probably said something to the opposite effect. Bold. And underlined. Possibly in red flashing text.

“Jim, stop thinking so much,” McCoy muttered. “Hang on, this might hurt.” McCoy pulled back, sliding out of Kirk’s stretched hole. “Come on.” He rolled off Kirk, then gently pulled Kirk after him. Spock slid free, too. Kirk suppressed a wince.

“Spock, hands,” McCoy said, with a note of expecting-to-be-obeyed-or-else that Kirk more often heard directed at him. Spock slid a hand over Kirk’s naked hip to wrap his long, cool fingers around Kirk’s erection. “Good,” McCoy said. “That’s good.”

McCoy tucked a hand under Kirk’s knee and propped his leg up. “You did good, Jim. Now we’re gonna make you lose your damn fool mind.”

“Too late, I think,” Kirk said with a rough sketch of a smile.

“He can still sass, Spock. I think you’re doing that wrong.”

A low growl rumbled against the back of Kirk’s neck, and Spock’s fingers tightened around Kirk’s cock. His thumb slide along the bottom and up over the head, making Kirk shudder.

“Okay, better,” McCoy said. Kirk watched warily as McCoy grabbed the discarded jar of lubricant and coated his fingers. “Relax. You can say stop if you don’t like it, understand?”

Kirk nodded, although after what McCoy and Spock had just done for him, he couldn’t foresee anything that would make him ask for mercy.

McCoy reached out to rub his fingers around the sore edge of Kirk’s stretched hole. Kirk breathed and tried to shift his focus to Spock’s hand on his dick. Spock, who was probably hating him right now.

“Doing fine,” McCoy said. He slid three fingers easily into Kirk; after the combined girths Kirk had just taken, it felt like nothing. “Would you have asked for this, if things were different?”

“Whu?” Kirk asked.

Spock gave Kirk’s cock a sharp tug, and he jerked in place.

“Be nice,” McCoy snapped. Then, to Kirk, “Say you came to us and asked us to go to bed with you. You must have thought about it. You’ve got a more active libido than anyone I know, and your imagination works fine. Would you have wanted what we just did?”

Kirk’s mind seemed to work only sluggishly, or perhaps McCoy’s fingers sliding in and out of his ass were impeding the thought process. “Would I have wanted….?”

“Yes.” McCoy folded his thumb into his fingers and pressed his hand into Kirk. It stretched sore muscles, but with lube and semen to ease the way, McCoy’s hand went in easily.

Kirk welcomed the burn, leaned into it. The pain helped him focus. It twined with the slow drag of Spock’s hand over his cock and made his whole body throb. “Do what you want,” he gasped.

McCoy twisted his hand inside Kirk. “You never thought, idly, about inviting yourself over one night, maybe getting a little drunk, asking if you could join in?”

Spock stroked Kirk’s cock harder, root to tip, and Kirk could feel Spock’s breath on his neck.

McCoy drew his hand out a little and pressed it back in slowly, searchingly. “Would you have wanted both of us like this? Or something else? Maybe you wanted me to watch you with Spock.”

Spock’s growl is back, rumbling against Kirk’s shoulder this time, and Spock twists his hand around the head of Kirk’s cock, making him bite back a groan.

“Or maybe you wanted Spock to watch the two of us? I bet you like it all. You’re an equal opportunity kind of guy, right Jim? What do you like the best?”

“I wouldn’t have asked,” Kirk breathed. He pressed his head back against Spock’s shoulder, and closed his eyes against the skeptical look on McCoy’s face. “Never.”

“You have your pride, I suppose.” McCoy pressed further in, and Kirk squirmed back against the solid wall of Spock’s chest.

Spock’s hand stilled on Kirk. “No,” Spock said softly. “He’s speaking the truth. He would never have asked, Leonard.”

Defense from that unexpected quarter allowed Kirk to open his eyes. McCoy’s eyes slid between Spock and Kirk. “Well.” His hand slid further into Kirk, angling forward, and Kirk spasmed as pleasure shot through him on nerves he’d thought were long since worn out. “Then these aliens might have done us a favor.” He pressed more firmly against the same spot, and Spock resumed stroking Kirk with firm and steady hands. It took less than a minute for the two of them to drive Kirk, gasping, over the edge.

McCoy lay back down beside them, and the three of them stayed there with heat radiating off of them like steam until the mess between Kirk’s legs began to feel unpleasantly sticky.

“Gentlemen.” Kirk turned over gingerly onto his back so he could sit up. The pain he could deal with. The weird, he would have to bluster his way through. “I propose we get cleaned up, then go inform our hosts we’ve completed the ritual.”

“Yes, captain.” Spock rolled out of bed first.

McCoy sat up next to Kirk. “Do you need anything from me?”

“You’ve done me enough favors today,” Kirk said, and he felt a small swell of pride at managing to sound grateful instead of bitter.

“I mean medically, Jim.”

“Oh, no.” Kirk shook his head. “It can wait until we get out of here.” Kirk scooted ungracefully to the edge of the bed, and started scouting for a towel.

“Jim.” McCoy caught Kirk hand. “If we did invite you to our bed, it wouldn’t be like that.”

“Ha.” Kirk threw on a semblance of a smile. “Don’t worry, your reputation’s safe.”

Spock appeared beside them with an armful of towels. “Captain. I believe Leonard is trying to say that we’d like to speak to you after the mission in a personal capacity. If you would be amenable.”

“I don’t need a pity fuck,” Kirk said crisply.

“Do you need pity abstinence?” McCoy asked as he snatched a towel from Spock and handed it to Kirk. “Just think about it, Jim. Right now, go out there and try to look well-fucked.”

Spock cocked his head to the side, looked Kirk up and down, and said, “I do not believe that will be a problem.”

“Alright,” Kirk said, and this time his smile came unbidden. “I’ll see what I can do.”


End file.
